Thursday 16 September 2010


Someone please explain to me the point of celebrity look-alikes? I have trouble with the existing group of individuals we call ‘celebrities’ – as a construct of course, nothing against the people...okay, some of the people - let alone a group of individuals who claim to look like Brad Pitt or Britney Spears. But apparently this is a profession – I was going to say legitimate, but I couldn’t get my fingers to type the word – where one can make a living going to parties, being hired by companies, or appearing at store openings. I’m thinking there must be pseudo celebrity strippers as well. Can’t you just see it, some dude resembling Sly Stallone dressed as Rambo whipping it off for Grandma and her friends.

The funny thing is, half of these people never resemble the celebrities they are supposed to look like. It’s usually some girl with long brown hair and big lips who claims that her entire life she has been mistaken for Angelina Jolie. Usually they tell you this like it’s been an unbearable burden to carry, but one they are resigned to accepting. “I can barely go to the mall without being stopped by a pack of wild teen boys who want my autograph. It's really traumatic.” Or how about the lookalikes that resemble a celebrity no one even remembers or cares about. Now there is a quest for a higher purpose in life. "Don't you know who I am? I'm the principal from 'Saved By The Bell.' Geeesh!" The truly scary types are the ones that take this ball and run with it, not only down the field but out of the stadium. They get plastic surgery to hone their celebrity look, get the same tattoos, wear similar clothing in their everyday life...In essence, they do their utmost to become someone else, a real someone. Cause every one knows that celebrities are ‘someone,’ while us civilians are, well, just that. 

Then again, I’m not sure who worries me more, the people trying to look like a public figure, or those encouraging their behavior. If I am having a party, I want Alexander Skarsgard there in the flesh, thank you very much, not some tall Nordic guy that walks around with plastic fangs in his back pocket for when he gets ‘recognized.’ I suppose those that are utterly fascinated with the notion of celebrity take what they can get. I’m thinking these are the same individuals who stand in line for hours at Madame Tussaud's wax museum so that they can take a photo of themselves standing next to Robert Pattinson. Who by the way is NOT Robert Pattinson. It is wax. Do you hear me, you are photographing WAX. It’s not like you can even say, oh I was out at this restaurant and I saw Brad Pitt and I snapped him on my iphone. On the contrary, the best you can muster is that you went to London – which should be the high point of your story – waited in line in the pelting rain (odds are it was), and then fought the crowds with the other questionable sorts to take a photo of a wax figurine. It’s like going on a virtual vacation or eating fake food. It’s not actually happening, people.  
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